


Court(ing) Process

by Nenagh24 (EverFascinated)



Series: Steter Week '19 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Courtroom!AU, Day 4, Don't copy to another site, Get it? It's a Pun, M/M, Steter Week 2019, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24
Summary: Beacon Hills houses both the county's Sheriffs Office and Superior Court. Their employees work closely together to enforce the rule of law within their jurisdiction.When Judge Peter Hale is assigned Deputy Stiles Stilinski as his new bailiff, he can't help but wonder just how close the two of them could be.





	Court(ing) Process

Peter was at least passingly familiar with most supernatural creatures, but somehow he’d never figured out which one caused paperwork to multiply so fast. He was beginning to suspect it was the more mundaimonster known as bureaucracy. Whatever the cause, it was going to be his downfall as it had been hours since his final trial of the day had concluded and yet here he was, still finishing the paperwork.

A knock at the door was a welcome distraction. After checking to make sure no confidential documents were visible, Peter called out to his visitor.

“Enter.” 

The door swung open to admit a uniformed man. His face wasn’t unfamiliar, but in a way that meant Peter must have previously only seen him in passing. Not one of the superior court’s usual bailiffs then.

“Judge Hale?” 

“That’s what it says on my door.” The tired joke got him a huff of laughter which made Peter’s polite smile feel a little less fake.

“Deputy Stilinski, I’ve been assigned to your courtroom starting Monday.” He stepped into Peter’s small office and stood by the chair any visitors used, settling easily into a parade rest.

“Oh?” That was news to Peter. Then again, his inbox was full to the point of overflowing. Why couldn’t the county just move over to electronic systems already? He picked up the pile and began paging through it for anything from the sheriff’s office. “Any relation to Sheriff Stilinski?” 

“He’s my dad.” It sounded like that was a question the deputy had to answer frequently. Peter knew the feeling. The amount of times Peter has been asked ‘of the Hale pack?’ had him using a similarly tired tone. He offered the young deputy an apologetic smile.

“Peacekeeping runs in the family then.” Ah, there it was. Slipping the notification out from between two evidence documents, Peter read it over quickly. “What happened to Deputy Lahey? Nothing bad, I hope.”

A hand waved as if to brush aside his concerns.

“Not really. It’s more what happened to Deputy Reyes, actually.” The deputy’s shrug emphasized his shoulders and the fit of the uniform, but Peter ignored it as Stilinski explained further, “She had to go on administrative leave after snarling at one of the lawyers who kept calling her Deputy Barbie. Judge Whittemore dismissed the man shortly after that and rescheduled the case for when a new defense attorney could be found.”

“David never was very good at protecting his staff,” Peter allowed, shaking his head. “But that still doesn’t tell me why Deputy Lahey has been replaced.”

“Issac was requested as her replacement when Judge Whittemore found out I’d been tapped for bailiff duty.” Leaning forward as if sharing a secret, the deputy clarified, “He thinks I’d lower the strict standards of his court just because his son tried to bully me in school, which is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Most people would hold a grudge. It was a precaution Peter would have taken if any of his pack had bullied a member of his staff. Not that they had, everyone in the pack was very strict about what was and wasn’t allowed in school. Born wolves might have more control, but it was still risky with so many hunters around.

“Yeah!” The ‘duh’ was heavily implied as if the answer was obvious. “Like I’d let Jackass ruin my career without him even needing to do anything. Besides, I settled that with him before he left the country.” 

With a nickname like that, Peter wasn’t surprised David hadn’t wanted Deputy Stilinski as a regular part of this court. He did find it interesting that the deputy seemed to truly believe in the ‘best revenge is living well’ adage, though that confident assertion that it was settled before Jackson left for college was interesting. Something to look into the next time he was trapped at a social function with David perhaps.

“I see.” When the deputy raised his brows as if to ask ‘do you?’ Peter gave him an enigmatic smile he’d practiced on Deaton. He was a little surprised when his new bailiff smiled back in response. Shuffling the documents in his hands, Peter set the now more organized papers back into his inbox. 

“The paperwork for the transfer seems to be in order, did you need anything from me?” 

“No, just wanted to introduce myself before our first trial. Have a good day, Judge Hale.” 

“You as well, Deputy Stilinski.” 

He gave Peter a nod before leaving the judge alone with his paperwork. Peter watched him go, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the fit of the man’s uniform before picking up his pen and getting back to work. Barring any further interruptions, he might just make it home before dark.

* * *

“All rise.” 

There was a quiet shuffling as everyone stood with only a guilty sniffle from one of the jurors to punctuate it. Peter and his court staff ignored it easily; allergies were common in the spring sessions. Deputy Stilinski only continued the traditional announcement once everyone was in place.

“Department Nineteen of the Beacon Hills Superior Court is now in session. The Honorable Peter Hale presiding. Please be seated.” The bailiff nodded to Peter as the rest of the court complied before turning to stand in front of the judge’s bench as usual.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Everyone met his eyes as Peter surveyed the assemblage. “Calling the case of the People of the State of California versus Terry Daniel. Are both sides ready?”

For an unusual case, the proceedings were routine. Then again, with Salvador Stewart as the defense attorney there was bound to be some sort of complaint. Most likely from the man himself.

“Bailiff!” Ah, speak of the devil. “Be more careful when handling evidence!”

The evidence bag that held the fingerprinted car keys was sealed securely and Deputy Stilinski was holding it just as the prosecution had. Wordlessly, the deputy brought his other hand up as if the bag were fragile as tissue paper, never breaking eye contact until it was on the clerk’s table.

Stewart made it a point to call out Deputy Stilinski on how he handled every piece of evidence until Peter had enough.

“The defense will stop wasting the court’s time by repeating instructions to the bailiff. There will be no badgering in my court, witnesses or otherwise.”

“Of course, your honor.” The response was bordering on sarcasm, but Peter was willing to let it slide with only a hard stare as they were nearing the closing arguments.

Having set the latest piece of evidence on the clerk’s table, Deputy Stilinski looked like he was attempting to hide his frustration behind a slow blink. When his amber eyes opened the bailiff turned to walk back to the bench and noticed Peter’s thoughtful inspection. A silent ‘thank you’ was conveyed to which Peter gave the smallest of nods.

The trial continued without any further interruptions, eventually culminating in a not guilty verdict for the defendant. Stewart might be a bit of an ass, but he did his job well. In this case he did it by somehow providing enough evidence to show that his client might not have been the one to purposefully commit grand theft auto and instead simply be an unlucky citizen who ended up driving a previously stolen car.

Later that evening, Peter was still shaking his head over the absurdity of it all on his way to his car when he found Deputy Stilinski locking up the bailiff’s weapon’s closet for the night. He missed how the rant started, but it sounded like the deputy was in full swing as he grumbled under his breath.

“Just because you’re still mad that I pointed out your error to Dad when I was _ twelve _doesn’t mean you can try and nitpick me a decade later, Asshole.” The keys jingled as the twisted in the lock. “‘Be more careful!’ Yeah, I know! That’s what I told you about that glass, Stewart! Which is why it broke when you swung it around-” 

A hand came flying back and Peter dodged it easily. Deputy Stilinski snatched his arm back, swallowing down the rest of his words as his heart rate jumped in surprise. Face impassive, Peter watched as the deputy straightened and greeted him with an awkward ‘Judge Hale’. He held the expression for a moment longer to see if the younger man would squirm (he didn’t) before letting his countenance become commiserating.

“Mr. Stewart is fond of grudges.” The ends of Peter’s lips twitched upward when the deputy snorted at the understatement, but he continued as if he hadn’t heard it. “I’d tell you not to take it personally, as he tries to discredit everyone rather frequently, but it seems that in your case he might mean it that way.”

Relaxing, Stilinski let out a sharp sigh and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Yeah. Well, if he could remember court procedure as well as he does slights against him, he might be a better lawyer.” 

The deputy had a good point. One would think that such a stickler for the rules would abide by them better, but Peter had seen more than a few trials where that wasn’t the case.

“Seeing as his poor attitude certainly helped me obtain a judgeship before him, his outlook has had its bright points.” Which was part of the reason why Stewart always had these little upsets in his court. Apparently, he wasn’t quite as bad when interacting with the other judges.

“He ran against _ you_?” The incredulous question had Peter raising a brow. Shouldn’t a deputy be aware of who is on the ballot? Deputy Stilinski looked like he was too busy realizing the bullet he’d unknowingly managed to dodge to notice. “Dude, I’m glad you won or else I’d be putting up with him on a daily basis. This is _ infinitely _better.”

“I’m finding it difficult to take that as a compliment, Deputy.” Tone dry, Peter gave the younger man a dry look even as the other snickered without clarifying the situation.

“Call me Stiles.” He said instead. “I still remember when my dad was a Deputy and hearing it always makes me feel like he’s standing behind me.”

“Behind you?” That was an interesting way of putting it.

“I may have tried to get on some of the cases before I was ‘ready’. He kept a close eye on me after he realized that.” 

Considering the grumbled rant from before, Peter’s imagination showed him a miniature Deputy Stilinski pouring through manilla folders before the sheriff appeared behind him looking disapproving. A smile slipped onto his face as he suppressed a snort.

“Twelve is a bit early for casework, I believe.”

“‘Crime waits for no man,’ as they say.” He held up a hand as if to say ‘what can you do?’ and Peter wondered if the younger man even knew what he was quoting.

“Maybe, but evidence laws are a bit stricter on their requirements, age or otherwise.” The lawyer in him needed to point out.

“Then it’s a good thing I now meet both.” Amber eyes gleamed as Stilinski grinned at Peter.

“Indeed it is.” Comment slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it, Peter kept his gaze firmly on the deputy’s face instead of letting it wander as it wanted to. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Deputy.”

“_Stiles_.” He corrected again before giving a short wave. “Have a good night, Judge Hale.”

* * *

Weeks passed as they were wont to do, slowly creeping until suddenly it was June and no one was quite sure where the last few months had gone.

Trials were held, cases were made, and, with an increasing regularity that came from working the same schedules, conversations were had. Stilinski made it a point to insist that Peter call him by his nickname instead of his title, but the bailiff’s reaction to the continued use of ‘Deputy’ was far too amusing for Peter to stop. It was even more hilarious when the other staff members of the court informed the deputy that Peter had never given them the same issue.

The rant he’d gotten that afternoon could be considered insubordination, but Peter graciously refrained from reporting it. Though, the smug smirk that he’d worn through the entire thing might have also had something to do with it.

Through it all, Peter never once thought that Stilinski had any idea that the supernatural existed. It wasn’t like some of the other bailiffs who were werewolves themselves or even Whittemore’s clerk who fancied herself a druid, the deputy never smelled or looked like anything out of the ordinary.

So it was understandable that Peter was caught off guard when the bailiff subtly stepped in to assist him with an issue of a more supernatural origin.

* * *

“I ask that this be admitted into evidence.” Flourishing a one-handed crossbow in his gloved hands, the prosecutor showed it first to Peter and then to the small jury. 

For someone who had been hunted by those using such archaic weapons, Peter thought it was telling that he had never been more relieved that a crossbow wasn’t loaded. He inhaled deeply through his nose to keep from showing his amusement before asking the customary follow-up to any evidence request.

“Does the defense have any objections?”

“No, your honor.” Her jutted jaw said otherwise, but Peter would have to take her at her word.

“Then the crossbow will be admitted as People’s exhibit number three.” There was a slight burning at the back of his throat as he said this. Peter watched as the prosecutor wheeled around to hand it to the bailiff, the tagged crossbow swinging dangerously over the bench in the process. It was caught in one of Stilinski’s similarly gloved hands before the deputy placed it on the clerk’s desk to be documented.

When the burning didn’t subside, Peter took a sip of his water only to cough. He was sure it looked like he’d simply swallowed wrong, but it was actually a realization that the water had even more of the irritant in it. While he’d managed to spit it back into the glass that didn’t mean that he wasn’t in danger of breathing more of it in. Especially when the weapon that was still coated in powdered wolfsbane was sitting not five feet from him.

Now in control of his breathing, if a little leery of doing so too deeply, Peter waved the prosecution on. Once the overly dramatic lawyer had gotten back into the flow of things, Peter allowed himself the inadequate barrier of his fingers, covering his nose and mouth with one hand as if deep in thought.

Still eyeing him intermittently since the coughing fit, his bailiff looked sharply between Peter and the crossbow. Trying to both pay attention to the questioning and look healthy, Peter only vaguely noted the scrutiny. 

Then Stilinski leaned back casually against the judge’s bench. 

If he weren’t trying to act casual in the face of wolfsbane, Peter would have narrowed his eyes. 

The deputy was very particular about how he presented himself in court, likely to keep anyone from complaining to or even blaming his father for any perceived lack of decorum. The break from his usual parade rest only lasted a minute before Stilinski was back in his usual position with no one the wiser.

Except now the bench was practically humming under Peter’s elbows. He nearly recoiled from the magic pressed within it before his shocked breath registered - and the itching burn of wolfsbane didn’t increase. In fact, as he sat there, it seemed to finally be getting better. 

Peter’s sharp look was ignored by the bailiff and the trial continued until it was time for a recess.

Waving the lawyers ahead, Peter removed his judicial robes in the small antechamber behind the bench before opening the door to catch the deputy’s attention. He would have thought the man would be resigned at being caught using magic, but Stilinski looked innocently curious as he came over.

“What’s up?” Too innocent, actually. Peter wasn’t convinced, but the matter certainly called for discretion.

“Deputy Stilinski. Do you have a moment?”

“For you, Judge Hale? Always. What do you need?” His honest smile was almost infectious, but Peter tempered his own until it was simply polite. He liked the deputy, but the pack came first and now he wasn’t sure if the younger man was a threat to them.

“I was hoping to discuss something with you, but as this is the only chance I have to eat lunch today, would you mind if we did so in my office?”

Deputy Stilinski shrugged after only the briefest hesitation.

“As long as you don’t mind me eating there too, we are on the same schedule after all.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.” With that implicit permission, Peter headed up to his office.

It wasn’t long after he’d pulled out his pasta salad that his door swung open. Deputy Stilinski let himself in, lunchbox dangling from his other hand. 

A batman themed lunchbox. Owned by an officer of the law. 

By the look in Stilinski’s eyes, he was just waiting for Peter to comment on it. He didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Please shut the door behind you, Deputy. Someone let some flies into the building this morning and I’d rather keep them out of here.”

“It’s Stiles and dealing with them in the courtroom is more than enough for me.” Nudging the door shut with one heel, Stilinski pushed some paperwork to the side to make room for his lunch, a sandwich and curly fries. Interesting combination. “What did you want to talk about?”

Chewing over a bite of his own meal, Peter wondered if a subtle approach would be better, before deciding that he’d already come this far and their recess was only so long. To the point it was then.

“What did you do this morning?”

“Uh, before or after I got to work?” The look of confusion was so over the top it was almost comical.

“In the courtroom.” Peter clarified, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“My job? You were there, I thought it was obvious.” The deputy was astute enough to catch Peter’s unimpressed look and wily enough to twist that interpretation. “Was there something I did wrong? Is this a disciplinary meeting? Because I have to say, those complaints should really be reported to the sheriff’s office for them to have any real effect.”

“I am aware of the official process, thank you.” One more try the easy way and then Peter was switching tactics. “I meant what you did when you leaned against the bench. What was it?”

“A way to rest my feet.” 

“Really.” It wasn’t even a question because Peter couldn’t add any new inflection after the effort it took to strip the word of sarcasm.

“Really really.” Stilinski looked so proud of himself as he popped another fry into his mouth that Peter could only keep up his expectant stare for a minute before he had to look away with a sigh.

They ate in what turned out to be a strangely comfortable silence (considering their rather incomplete conversation), until Peter set his fork aside and pressed the lid back on to his empty container. Placing them back into his bag to take home later that night, Peter then pushed his desk chair back to stand up.

“This was singularly uninformative, Deputy. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped around his desk to reach for the door. “I’d like to get a closer look at the evidence before our recess ends. Feel free to finish your meal here before returning to the court.”

Deputy Stilinski, who had been trying to finish his most recent bite after nearly choking on it at the word ‘evidence’, grabbed Peter’s wrist before he could reach for the door handle. 

“Wait!” They both paused as the younger man finished swallowing his food. “I have to-”

Whatever he had to do involved pushing Peter’s sleeve up to expose his wrist. Yanking his arm back with what might have been too much force, Peter arched a brow at the deputy.

“Getting a little forward aren’t you, Deputy Stilinski?”

For some reason, that got him a look that questioned Peter’s intelligence.

From the man that just knowingly grabbed a werewolf without asking. 

Their mutual searches for the other’s missing mental acuity came to an end when the deputy threw his hands up and turned back to his food.

“I mean, if you want to suffer from a slow death via powdered wolfsbane, I guess I could let you, though it seems a waste.” Pointed questions, judgmental looks, and prolonged silences didn’t work, but death threats to others (even Peter himself) did. Interesting.

“And you have a way to prevent it?” Peter knew of some, but getting any of them was both tricky and expensive even for a pack as well established as theirs.

“I blocked it earlier, so yeah.” That was unexpected. From the effects, Peter had thought it was a premade rune, not something done on the fly. His speculative look had Stilinski rolling his eyes. “Dude, at least five deputies in the sheriff’s office are were’s and so is my best friend. _ Of course _ I learned how to stop this.”

‘Of course’ he said. Like it was inevitable and not an anomaly.

When Peter didn’t move to leave, his bailiff held out his own hand. The offer was still on the table. 

Peter hesitated only a moment longer (if the deputy could do something so specific with just some runes he could also do worse, but he’d already exposed his magic by saving Peter once already) and then held out his arm.

Immediately, his sleeve is pushed back. It’s just far enough to expose his inner wrist, but not so far that his cuff needed to be unbuttoned. A slightly greasy finger traced seemingly random patterns against his pulse-point and Peter wrinkled his nose at the feeling, focusing on the mild disgust it caused instead of the unrequested and unexpected intimacy that lingered at their closeness.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, Stiles’ tongue peeked out from between his bitten lips before he sat back, releasing Peter’s hand with a grin. The protection sigils glowed faintly before fading into his skin.

“You’re a druid?” Peter guessed.

“Not really.” The non-answer only fueled Peter’s curiosity, but Stiles moved on before he could question further. “That should last for about two days so try not to unintentionally poison yourself once it runs out.”

“I don’t usually make it a habit to do so, no.” Peter allowed his amusement at the warning to show as he pulled his sleeve back down over his wrist.

“And yet-” Halting mid-sentence, Stiles turned from where he’d picked up his sandwich to look at him, eyes narrowing. “It was just to see if I’d do it again.”

“The evidence does need a second look, but it will be nice to not have to wear a mask to do so.” Unrepentant, Peter gifted the deputy with a satisfied smirk.

Stiles gave him a dirty look in return.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Necessary information imparted, he turned his glare back to his sandwich and took a large bite.

“I’m sure.” It may have taken a couple of different tactics, but Peter was satisfied at the filling and informative lunch. Opening his door, he addressed his guest as he stepped into the hall. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch, Deputy. Court resumes in nine minutes.”

The deputy was still grumbling into his meal as Peter shut the door.

* * *

That one lunch turned into two (an extended interrogation, Peter would argue if anyone questioned it) and then three (an unspoken apology for some particularly insensitive questions that Stiles had answered at the previous lunch before storming from the room, offended that Peter even needed to ask) which eventually snowballed into the two of them sharing a meal over Peter's desk at least a few times each week.

A month or so later, after one such lunch, it just so happened that Sheriff Stilinski was called to the witness stand in a trial Peter was presiding over. While the trial and the Sheriff’s questioning went smoothly, with the defendant eventually being found guilty, it seemed a different sort of trouble was brewing. It was only that night, after the trials for that day had ended, that Peter became aware that the significant looks the sheriff and his son had exchanged after the older man’s stint on the stand were anything other than familial or occupational inside jokes.

He should have realized it when they occurred, but in hindsight Peter felt he could be excused as he had simply been appropriately focused on the trial. 

However, not realizing it immediately when Stiles appeared in his office later that evening (well after most, if not all, of the staffers had left) was indefensible, even _with_ all of the damned paperwork that had kept him there wearing on his observational skills.

* * *

The door swung open after a clearly perfunctory knock and Peter glanced up to see Stiles entering with even more paperwork. He stifled a groan at the thought of even more of the tree-killing forms. It wasn’t the deputy’s fault that they hadn’t yet switched over to electronic systems even after Peter’s continued petitions for it.

“Ah, Deputy. Helping out Danielle again?”

“Not this time.” Something about the way he said it attracted Peter’s full attention. The click of the door shutting them both inside sounded final.

Looking up, he found Stiles standing there with an unreadable expression, forms from the sheriff’s office in his hands. The deputy bit his lips when he held them out and Peter tried not to think about how red that made them look as he took the offered papers.

The forms were familiar. Ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, Peter frowned as he read through them. 

“You’re being reassigned?”

“Yep.” Stiles didn’t sound overly bothered about it, which only made Peter feel more annoyed that it was bothering _ him_. He’d thought they’d both been enjoying their lunches together. 

Apparently he was wrong.

“Any particular reason why I’ll be seeing Deputy Reyes in my court?”

“Well, she is coming back from her sabbatical. You know, I hear she met one of your relatives down in Central America.” Something of Peter’s feelings must have shown on his face because Stiles quickly went from speculative to serious with a soft sigh. “It’s more because of my dad.”

“Your father?” Damn, he should have made that connection himself. The timing after the trial couldn’t have been coincidental. “Did he see something he didn’t like?” 

Did he not want his son around Peter?

“Kinda?” Stiles made a face, obviously trying to find the right words to explain the situation. “It’s more that he wants to ‘uphold both the integrity of the sheriff’s department and the superior court’. That and he knows me too well. Ergo, I can’t be your bailiff any more.”

That was a lot of words that didn’t explain anything specific, but it heavily implied something Peter hadn’t quite expected, despite his own interests. (After so many years playing second fiddle to Talia and the pack’s general needs, he was used to not getting what he wanted.) Now he was starting to suspect the transfer was the herald to something _ more _with Stiles, so he didn’t bother hiding the smug smile that started to creep across his lips.

“And why is that? What does your father know?” Questions he could guess the responses to, but it would be amusing to see how Stiles responded. Would he prevaricate some more or get straight to the point.

The narrowing of Stiles’ eyes showed he at least suspected that Peter already knew the answers, but the deputy paused only a moment before shrugging and answering anyway.

“He knows that I don’t always follow the whole ‘integrity of the office’ thing when I believe it shouldn’t apply, so the restrictions my position _ should _have imposed wouldn’t have kept me from asking you out.” It seemed that Stiles decided to try and ride the line between the two options Peter had predicted by obliquely talking about the point without outright asking. 

Peter leaned back in his chair and hoped the fondness he felt at the deputy’s unknowing refusal to fit neatly into what Peter expected of him didn't show on his face.

“Wouldn’t it?” 

“Nope.” Shrugging, Stiles restlessly moved around the desk towards the curtained window and started messing with the Newton's cradle that Talia had bought Peter as a joke years before. It was almost always the first thing the younger man played with whenever he finished his meal first and his slide into old habits had Peter relaxing further into his seat. “I don’t think personal relationships that don’t affect the professionalism of those involved should have any bearing on the perceived ‘integrity’ but, with the threat of it out of the way, it does make this easier.”

“Easier how, Deputy?” Chair squeaking faintly with his movements, Peter turned to face Stiles more directly and leaned an elbow on his desk. Now that he had evidence that his interests might not be completely misplaced, Peter allowed himself to enjoy both the view and the fit of Stiles’ pants.

As if feeling the appreciative gaze resting on him, Stiles turned to face the desk once more. Peter let his gaze linger before trailing upwards to lock eyes with the lightly flushing deputy.

“_Stiles_.” Came the exasperated correction. “I officially don’t work with you anymore so I think you could call me Stiles.”

“I could.” Peter admitted easily. He smirked when Stiles realized Peter hadn’t agreed to actually using the nickname.

“Ugh, a semantics argument. I walked right into that.”

“Maybe, but you’ve also used it to stray from your point.” And Peter was hoping Stiles would get to it soon, there were things he’d like to follow it up with.

The comment got him a scowl and a finger pointed at his face instead.

“Stop pointing out my flaws or I’ll act on the need to prove my dad wrong.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Peter was sure he didn’t look sorry at all. “Please, continue proving your father right.”

Pointed finger dropping back to his side, Stiles rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh.

“I was going to say that since you’d no longer be in danger of threatening your own honor by dating your bailiff it would make your answer more straightforward, but it looks like that isn’t the case.” It seemed Stiles had conveniently forgotten that he had yet to ask Peter anything, maybe the deputy was more nervous than he’d thought.

“I see. Thank you for looking out for my ‘honor’.”

“You’re welcome. Now, will you?” Hands on his hips, Stiles waited for an answer to the unasked question.

“Will I what?” After Stiles made it seem like he was walking out of Peter’s life not ten minutes ago, Peter couldn’t think of any reason to make this easy for him.

“Why do I even like you?” An annoyed look on his face, Stiles looked like he didn’t know the answer to that, which was ridiculous. 

Peter was amazing and Stiles had eyes. 

Case closed.

For once in his life, Peter settled on an answer that was slightly less egotistical.

“At this rate, the world may never know.” Less egotistical didn’t mean more helpful.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” The question emphasized each word. As if Peter didn’t understand Stiles when he was babbling excitedly about the latest superhero movie. “Specifically as a _ date_, just to make my intentions _ absolutely clear _ since you’re being purposefully obtuse.”

“Of course, Stiles. I thought you’d never ask.” His amused tone and pointed comment went unremarked. Instead, Stiles rolled his eyes.

Not the reaction Peter had been hoping for, but the wide smile the deputy wore balanced it out nicely.

“And here I was beginning to think you’d be calling me ‘Deputy’ even in bed.”

“Role-play has never really been my thing, sweetheart.” Ignoring the reference to things to come, even as other parts of him paid it close attention, Peter wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“And now I’m beginning to realize you just don’t like calling people by their names.” Stiles sounded resigned to never hearing his own name.

“Whatever gave you that idea, _ darling_.” It’d be a shame if Peter let him down.

“Oh my god.”

“If you like, but I prefer to go by ‘Peter’.”

The quick rejoinder had Stiles raising his hands as if he’d just washed them of the whole situation, clearly wowed by Peter’s quick wit.

“I’ve changed my mind. Goodbye forever.” 

Peter leaned forward in his chair and loosely grasped one of Stiles’ wrists when the other man went to walk away. Gently, he used it to pull the unresisting deputy closer until he was standing in front of him, legs bracketing Peter’s own outstretched set. Releasing the wrist, Peter used that same hand to trail his fingers around Stiles’ waist, just above his belt, until he reached the small of the younger man’s back.

“I’m sure I can bring you back around.” The assurance was a little rough as Peter fought to keep his breathing steady at the heady and familiar scent of arousal that was now permeating the room. He’d been wondering if he’d been the cause of the previous traces he’d smelled during their lunches, now knowing he _was_ made it that much sweeter. Stiles licked his abused lips in response, pupils steadily expanding as the hand on his back pressed him even closer to Peter. 

Leaning in with it, Stiles stopped just a few inches from Peter’s face and gave him a wicked smirk.

“Prove it.” 

Peter’s free hand easily found the back of Stiles’ head, pulling him down to meet him in a fierce kiss. 

The chair rocked a little as Stiles threw out a hand to brace himself against the high back, the other tangling in Peter’s hair, tugging a little to try and get a better angle. Growling a little at the sensation, Peter nipped at his lower lip only to have Stiles use the opening to deepen the kiss even further. One hand dropping over the deputy’s thick belt, Peter used his new hold to pull Stiles into his lap.

The angle was a bit awkward, Stiles would probably have a crick in his neck from the angle, and Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost himself so thoroughly in a kiss. 

Stiles’ hands, both free to roam with this new position, were never still. Curious fingers carded through Peter’s hair, explored the column of his throat, and toyed with the buttons of his dress shirt before those hot hands ran down the front of his chest. Peter couldn’t help the rumbling growl that lingered at the back of his throat as he returned the favor, appreciating the feel of Stiles’ muscular thighs and relishing the way he arched his back when Peter dragged a hand up his spine.

By the time they both calmed down enough to break away without one of them dragging the other back into it, both of them were flushed and panting.

A dangerous sounding creak from the chair that was now supporting the two of them was the only reason why they stopped before trying anything more. 

Carefully standing from where he’d ended up straddling Peter, Stiles blinked a few times before shaking his head as if he were trying to clear it.

“You’ve made a very convincing argument.” Stiles traced his own lips with fingers that trembled ever so slightly as Peter watched, satisfied at the flush that still lingered on those freckled cheeks. It wouldn’t do to have others see it in the courthouse, however, so it was probably for the best that Peter would be saving future activities for a more private venue.

“I always do.” Peter smirked as his smug comment finally brought Stiles back down to earth. 

Sighing, Stiles probably tried to look unamused by the remark (the silly smile he still wore was hindering the effort) before he gave it up as a bad job.

“Tomorrow at eight?” He asked instead and Peter grinned.

“I’ll meet you by the employee entrance.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic taught me more about county courts and state laws then my government class did, but I'm still not sure how much of the process I wrote is accurate lol


End file.
